


CRASH

by rubyelf



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyelf/pseuds/rubyelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has never been very good at saying things when you're supposed to say them, or saying the right things. Of course, for the most important things, he's got to wait for the absolute worst moment...</p>
<p>Happy Birthday, LN_tora!</p>
            </blockquote>





	CRASH

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miramise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miramise/gifts).



Clint was unhappy about the projectiles tipped with explosive charges that kept blowing big chunks of concrete out of the wall around him, because projectiles tipped with explosive charges were supposed to be _his_ thing, but these ones were starting to do a lot of damage, and the wall behind him was starting to not look very stable anymore.

“Clint, time to get off your perch,” Tony’s voice came through his headset. “I’m headed your way.”

Clint braced himself, and a moment later, as expected, it felt like he’d been hit by a train as Tony barreled past with his thrusters on full power and snatched Clint off the ledge like a bird picking a berry in mid-flight. He would have protested the rather abrupt treatment, except that a heartbeat after Tony grabbed him, the ledge he’d been standing on crumbled under the impact of another explosion.

Tony was headed for the ground, ready to deposit Clint somewhere and launch back off again, when one of the projectiles, which so far seemed to have been aimed at doing massive amounts of destruction to buildings rather than anything else, flashed over Clint’s head and directly into the side of Tony’s helmet before detonating.

The impact would have knocked Clint out of Tony’s grasp if the suit hadn’t been programmed to automatically lock onto whatever it was carrying, but it nearly blinded and deafened him and sent Tony spinning out of control, thrusters misfiring as they fell toward the ground. Clint looked up and realized with alarm that there was a distinct crack in the side of the suit’s helmet, which might mean there was a crack in the side of Tony’s head, too, but he didn’t have much time to think about anything, because the suit controls were obviously damaged, and the emergency thrusters were going to keep them from hitting the ground at lethal speed, but not from hitting the ground at a really uncomfortable speed. Clint curled himself up and prepared for impact, but Tony’s suit took most of it, although Clint rolled and hit the sidewalk hard enough to leave him gasping for breath. He rolled over and found himself looking up, and thought to himself that the building above them should not be leaning like that, and that there shouldn’t be huge fractures working their way up the sides of it, and that they needed to move _right now_ , but there wasn’t any time. He could only stare up at the several stories of concrete and rubble that was about to come down on their heads.

There was a sound somewhere between a growl and a roar, and the ground shook, but it wasn’t the impact of things falling on them; it was the Hulk, bearing a huge iron beam from one of the other buildings across his shoulders and pounding over to crouch over Tony and Clint just as the debris started to rain down. Clint ducked as close to the massive green figure as he could, and tried to pull Tony in too, but the suit was far too heavy. The Hulk seemed to understand and shifted sideways to stand over Tony, letting Clint scramble under the giant green umbrella. The sound of the building crashing down around them was enormous, and everything rapidly went dark as dust filled the air and crumbled pieces of concrete began to pile up around them. Clint felt sharp bits of rubble biting into his skin as the huge chunks of building shattered against each other and covered his ears against the deafening noise.

 

 

 

 

It seemed like a very long time before the crashing roar slowed down and the rubble stopped falling around them. Clint could hear the Hulk breathing hard, but it was too dark to see anything, or even to tell if his eyes were open or closed.

“Tony?” he called, fumbling in the darkness.

No answer, but he found the metal leg of the suit and followed it up until he found the helmet with the big crack in the side of it, and his fingers felt something wet and sticky.

“Fuck. I need to get this helmet off.”

He heard the Hulk shifting his weight, and more rubble rained down on them. Clint chewed on the inside of his lip. Hulk didn’t know how to get Tony’s helmet off without potentially hurting him, but Bruce would.

The Hulk grunted a warning, and Clint ducked against the metal of the suit as big pieces of debris began to crash and rumble in the darkness, and he could feel the space around them getting smaller. He waited for the impact that would crush him, but it didn’t happen, even though he felt rocks hitting his legs.

“There’s a flashlight in the right side of the torso of the suit,” Bruce’s voice said in the darkness. “Feel around until you find a panel and then push the button underneath it.”

Clint fumbled over the suit until he found the button and got his hands on the small flashlight, which cast a dim, narrow beam in the blackness. What he saw didn’t give him much optimism; the beam the Hulk had been holding seemed to have become embedded in the rubble, saving them a small space beneath it, but the stuff piled above it looked hopelessly heavy.

“I think the whole building came down on us.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, and there was something strange in his voice that made Clint turn the flashlight on him. He found that Bruce was making a pained attempt to shove pieces of concrete off himself, but wasn’t having much success. Clint hauled the chunks of material away, but he had to struggle enough with the weight of them to know that having them fall all over Bruce couldn’t have been a good thing.

“Are you okay?”

“Maybe,” Bruce said, but Clint could read the pain in how he winced with each breath.

“Broken ribs?”

“Think so.”

“Anything else broken?”

“Maybe.”

He flashed the light down Bruce’s body, but Bruce swatted at him. “Tony. The helmet. There’s a little lever at the back of the neck. If you flip it, the helmet will retract…”

He had to stop to catch his breath, but Clint was already working and in a moment there was a click and then the metallic sliding sound of the helmet parts retracting into the suit. Clint turned the flashlight on his face and was surprised to find Tony looking back at him, eyes wide and pupils narrowing rapidly in the glare from the flashlight.

“Clint? What the hell…”

“You’re hurt,” Clint said. “Hold still.”

He leaned over to get a look at the side of Tony’s head where the helmet had split, and fuck, that was a lot of blood, welling from a deep gash that ran from the top of his head to just behind his ear. It had already started to drip and pool in the dust.

“Tony?”

Tony stared at him blankly.

“Fuck. He’s bleeding a lot.”

He heard Bruce try to move, curse under his breath.

“I can’t… you’ll have to help me.”

Clint wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to move either of them, but he carefully eased Bruce across the small space, finding with increasing concern that the floor where Bruce had been laying was thoroughly smeared with blood. Bruce gritted his teeth and held his breath until Clint had moved him to where he could reach Tony. He quickly found the switch to retract the rest of the suit.

“Make sure… he’s not hurt anywhere else,” he said, finding that breathing was accompanied by stabbing daggers in the side of his chest.

Clint looked him over quickly with the flashlight. “I don’t see anything else. But we’ve got to do something.”

“Pressure… slow down the bleeding,” Bruce managed.

“I know. But that won’t stop it… and you’re in bad shape too, Bruce. We’ve got a whole fucking building on top of us.”

“You think you can get out?”

Clint pointed the flashlight upward. “Not really. But I think I’d rather try than watch both of you die down here while I wait. I’ll have to take the light, though.”

“Do what you have to do.”

Clint nodded. He pulled out his knife, sliced a piece out of Tony’s shirt, and pressed it to the head wound, then guided Bruce’s hand over it.

“Hold that there as hard as you can,” he said, even as Tony winced and whined at the pressure.

“I will.”

“I’m going to get some help down here. I promise,” Clint said. Then he was gone, one quick leap landing him on top of the iron beam, and then another up into the darkness. Bruce could hear him moving rocks and could hear them clattering downward, but within a few minutes the glow of the flashlight was gone, and the sounds grew fainter. Then there was only the creaks and groans of the rubble settling around them and the sound of their breathing.

“Tony?”

“My head hurts,” he muttered.

“I know. You got hit hard enough to split your helmet open.”

“Really?” Tony asked, puzzled. “Wait… where are we? I can’t…”

“Under what’s left of a building,” Bruce said. “Clint… went up. He’s going to get someone to come help us.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“I don’t think you want to,” Bruce said.

Tony reached up to Bruce’s hand holding the cloth to his head; it was already soaked through with blood.

“I don’t remember…”

“It’s okay. I’m sure they’re… already looking for us.”

“Bruce… are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He could almost hear Tony’s scowl. “You are not. You’re hurt. Don’t fucking lie to try to make me feel better.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Despite Bruce’s protest, Tony rolled over and reached for him, shocked to find his shirt already soaked and stiff with blood. He slid closer, close enough the feel the tight shudder of pain with each breath, the shivering.

“Shit. There has to be something I can do…”

“You can hold still. You’re losing blood.”

“So are you…”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t think it matters.”

Tony felt an icy chill of terror penetrate the fog in his head. “You can’t leave me alone down here, Bruce. You can’t. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Don’t get worked up. You’ll just bleed more.”

Tony was still gripping Bruce’s bloody shirt, and he tried to pull him nearer, but Bruce’s sharp gasp of pain told Tony he shouldn’t be moving him, so he forced his own bruised and uncooperative body to raise itself up on its elbows until he could reach Bruce properly. He reached up for his face, found it sweaty and cold, his breath shallow against Tony’s wrist.

“Fuck… tell me what to do.”

“Nothing, Tony. Just… try not to move too much. I don’t think I can keep holding this anymore… my hands aren’t working very well…”

The hand holding the cloth to Tony’s head dropped away. Tony grabbed it and tried to rub some life back into it, and Bruce’s fingers curled slightly around his.

“Tony, stop. You need to stay still and not waste…”

“Shut up.”

Bruce almost laughed. “I wish you’d let me. It hurts like hell to talk.”

“Then be quiet,” Tony said, as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He laid his head down on Bruce’s shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. They’re going to find us and…”

“They’re going to find you,” Bruce murmured.

“No,” Tony said sharply, desperately. “Us. Both of us.”

 

 

 

 

Time didn’t seem to have any meaning in the blackness, except as Tony could measure it in the way Bruce’s breath grew shallower and the way his own body seemed to be turning into lead and his thoughts seemed to be slipping away as he reached for them, but he finally managed to pin down and study the realization that if someone didn’t get down there very soon, he wasn’t going to have a lab partner anymore, or a friend that got his jokes even when they didn’t make any sense, or the person who could read him with just a glance and know what he needed, whether it was a wrench or a solution to a tricky programming problem or a long, solid nap.

“Bruce? You still listening?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I love you.”

Silence for a moment. “That’s the concussion talking.”

“It’s not,” Tony protested.

“You probably… don’t even remember what you just said.”

“I said I love you.”

“You’re crazy. You’re going into shock. Don’t…”

Tony forced his body to move, reached up and found Bruce’s face with one hand in the blackness, and leaned up to kiss him. He didn’t know exactly what he’d meant to do, but once it was there, he couldn’t just make it a quick press of lips; there was too much need and demand and fear in it, and he held it, for a moment not even caring if he was hurting him or not, because he _had_ to understand, had to know all of it, right now, and Tony knew he didn’t have any words to say it.

He finally had to slump back down, his arms refusing to hold him up anymore. His lips slid across Bruce’s dusty cheek, and Bruce’s head turned slightly to follow them for a moment.

“Now’s… a hell of a time to tell me that…” Bruce whispered.

“I know. My timing has always been shitty.”

He didn’t even know where to touch Bruce without hurting him, so he settled for grabbing his hand and holding it tightly, as if that would be enough to keep anything from happening to him.

“You have to get out of here. With me. I need you.”

“You don’t need me,” Bruce murmured. “You have everybody in the world… at a wave of your finger…”

“I don’t _want_ them,” Tony protested. “I don’t even like most of them. I need you.”

“Sorry,” Bruce said, turning his head to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“What? No… no ‘sorry’…. Bruce… goddamnit, that is _not_ going to be the last fucking thing you say to me…”

There was no response. The unyielding darkness seemed to crush in on him like the weight of the building itself, and with it the helplessness of realizing that this was going to happen right here in front of him and that no amount of money, no brilliant idea, no last-minute genius escape plan, was going to make a difference, not for Bruce. Eventually, his own light-headed dizziness became a slow descent into a jumble of confused thoughts and then into nothing, except that he thought he heard a clinking and rattling noise somewhere in the distance and wondered what it meant.

Then the sound was closer, and small bits of rock began to rain down on them, and Tony forced himself back to consciousness, because now there was a vague hint of light somewhere above him, and it was coming closer, and suddenly it seemed to fall out of the rubble and landed beside them, in the form of Clint, gray with concrete dust and carrying an electric lantern that he hadn’t had before.

“You got out,” Tony said.

“Yeah. The rescuers are working their way down here. Apparently none of them are former circus performers, so they couldn’t come down my way.”

“Fuck. You got out… they’re… you have to help Bruce.”

Clint frowned. “Tony, the rescuers are…”

“No… he can’t wait. You have to do something.”

“There’s nothing I can do that wouldn’t hurt him worse than he is already,” Clint said, his face solemn in the lantern shadows.

“Tell them to get down here faster! Or at least do something… I can lay here all fucking day but they’ve got to do something to help him…”

He realized he was shouting and that was making his head throb and the dizzy blackness start to circle him again. Clint pressed him back down to the ground firmly.

“I’ll go back up and see what I can do,” he said, and with a quick leap, he was back up into the rubble and gone again, leaving them in blackness.

 

 

 

 

The nurses had woken Tony early that morning to be shipped downstairs for another MRI scan of his head, but refused to tell him anything about Bruce. The doctor who came in to tell him his MRI scan looked good and that he had a concussion but no serious bleeding in his brain refused to tell him anything about Bruce. The lady who brought his lunch didn’t know who Bruce was. The painkillers they gave him for the incessant pounding headache were enough to make him fuzzy, but not enough to shut him up, and eventually someone apparently decided maybe a visitor would calm him down a little and make him stop shouting at the staff.

Clint strolled in, his hands covered in mittens of bandages from fingertips to wrists.

“It’s a bitch. I couldn’t even get the door open,” Clint said, holding them up.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just cut them up pretty badly digging out of there. Lots of broken glass and metal. It’s fine. They’ll heal up.”

“No one will tell me anything about Bruce,” Tony said.

Clint flopped into the chair beside the bed. “Maybe that’s because you’re being an asshole.”

“I’m allowed to be. I have a concussion.”

“Have you had a concussion most of your adult life?”

“Fuck off. Where’s Bruce?”

“He’s still in the intensive care unit upstairs. You can probably see him today… I heard the doctor saying they were going to discharge you this afternoon.”

Tony didn’t even hear the last part; all he heard, and needed to hear, was that Bruce was somewhere here in the hospital.

“Is he okay?”

“Not yet, but they said he will be,” Clint said. “They had to do a couple of surgeries… internal injuries and a collapsed lung and lots of other bad things. One of the doctors said he shouldn’t have been able to make it that long and that maybe the gamma radiation and the Hulk powers made his body tougher than a normal person’s… but Natasha and I were up there earlier and he’s pretty doped up, but he’s awake.”

“Then get someone in here to take this fucking IV out of my arm so I can go see him.”

Clint grinned. “I’m sure if you threaten some more nurses…”

“Fine. You talk to them. Just get me out of here. I have to see him.”

 

 

 

 

Either Clint convinced someone or they were more than ready to get rid of him anyway, because in an hour he had his discharge papers and was in the elevator on the way to the ICU. He spent the ride thinking of what he was going to say to the first person who told him he couldn’t come in, but he had wasted his time, because apparently they’d been warned he was coming and all they did was show him straight to Bruce’s room.

“Don’t stress him out,” the nurse warned. “He’s got a lot of recovering to do.”

“I’m not here to stress him out,” Tony muttered, thinking to himself that he’d just be happy to know for sure that Bruce was alive and was still willing to look him in the face after what he’d said and done.

“I didn’t figure you were,” the nurse said. “Just… he’s still in pretty rough shape, that’s all. The surgeons had a lot of repairs to do.”

She opened the door and slipped in, holding an arm out to block Tony.

“Dr. Banner? You have a visitor. Is that all right?”

She stepped back and waved Tony in. “He’s only allowed to have visitors for half an hour for right now.”

Tony stepped into the room and was almost hypnotized by the monitors with the flashing lights and the soft beeping and the darting electric lines across the screens, and there seemed to be tubes and wires everywhere, but after a moment he managed to find the bed in the middle, and then to locate the face beneath everything. Bruce’s dark eyes were watching him, slightly dazed but alert. Tony realized he’d thought of what he was going to say to everyone who wouldn’t let him see Bruce, but none of the things he was going to say when he actually got here.

Bruce raised a hand and motioned him over to the chair, pointing to the oxygen mask.

“You won’t be able to hear me… unless you sit right there.”

Tony sat.

“Are you okay?”

Tony laughed. “Me? I’m discharged. Clean bill of health. No heavy lifting for a few weeks and no more concussions for a while. Just have to make the helmet harder. You don’t look so great.”

Bruce smiled wryly. “I’ve felt better. It’s okay. I get good pain meds.”

“If you need anything…”

“Just a lot of rest, I think.”

“I’ll leave you alone, then. You should be resting.”

“Wait…”

He sat back down, but couldn’t quite manage to look back at Bruce’s face. “Yeah?”

“Do you… remember what you said?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “You think I’d forget?”

“You did have a head injury.”

“Yes, I remember what I said, Bruce.”

He looked down as Bruce’s hand brushed over his. “I just… wanted to know… you know, if you meant it. I mean, if you were just…”

Tony forced himself to look up and meet his eyes. “Yes, I meant it.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Do you still mean it? I mean, if you want, we can just…”

“I still mean it. I’ve meant it for… forever.”

“You haven’t even known me forever.”

Tony slumped back in the chair. “Yeah. I know. But I’ve known forever… that it wasn’t just going to be just anybody, you know? That it was going to be someone who wasn’t like anyone else.”

“You mean another weirdo like you?”

“Like me, except without all the bad parts,” Tony said.

Bruce grinned, and Tony thought that was the best thing he’d ever seen, and right then his brain locked onto a new task of trying to figure out a way to make him grin like that again every time he saw him.

“You should get some rest,” he said.

“Probably,” Bruce agreed. “You’ll be back, though, right?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll bring a copy of some science journal so we can laugh at how wrong they are about everything.”

“No making me laugh,” Bruce said. “It hurts like hell.”

“Can I at least try to make you smile?” he asked.

“That sounds just fine,” Bruce said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He closed his eyes, and Tony backed out of the room quietly, nearly running into the nurse who was waiting outside the door. He glared at her suspiciously.

“Were you listening?”

“No. I was just supposed to make sure you didn’t upset him. You’ve worked yourself up a pretty good reputation, you know.”

 “I know. But as long as you’re taking good care of him, I promise to behave.”

She smiled. “We’ll take good care of him. He’s a sweet guy.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, grinning. “It’s a shame he’s so willing to put up with assholes like me.”

He walked off down the hall to where Clint was waiting for him by the elevator, hands in his pockets, trying to resist the inexplicable urge to jump up and down and spin around like a three-year-old. He figured that probably at least ought to wait till he was out of the hospital.

 

 

 


End file.
